


Where Sea Meets Sky

by Rynne



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Academy Era, Alternate Universe, Big Bang Challenge, Friendship, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Slow-building Relationship, academy au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-22
Updated: 2012-08-23
Packaged: 2017-11-12 17:18:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/493748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynne/pseuds/Rynne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cadet Spock of Starfleet finds a mystery as well as an unexpected friendship when he meets a strange human boy on a beach at night. Soon, however, Spock is intrigued by more about Jim than just his secrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Там, где море встречается с небом](https://archiveofourown.org/works/993137) by [Dreaming_Cat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreaming_Cat/pseuds/Dreaming_Cat)



> Written for the K/S Big Bang 2012.
> 
> [Art](http://pandafoot105.livejournal.com/78219.html) is by **pandafoot105**. It's also incorporated into the story.
> 
> [Mix](http://unseensorrows.livejournal.com/35179.html) is by **unseensorrows**.
> 
> Thank you to **1lostone** for the great beta!

The wind blew chill air across the ocean, a breeze infused with a thick saltwater scent. Spock shivered, and wondered that his peers had told him autumn was San Francisco's _warm_ season. He did not feel warm even in the daytime, much less standing on a beach at night.

He turned back toward the fire, around which were seated Spock's roommate, Joshua Fleming, and several of his friends. Fleming -- who had insisted on being called "Josh" -- had been consistently inviting Spock to social events for the past three point two weeks. Finally, in an effort to both be sociable and stem the insistent requests, Spock had agreed. Now, however, he recalled why he had turned away all previous invitations. He had no interest in imbibing copious amounts of alcohol and telling stories with little purpose than to make the others laugh.

He could not simply return to Starfleet Academy yet. Ocean Beach was far enough away from the Academy as to require a vehicle, and while Spock could simply walk back, he was not familiar with this area of San Francisco. He did not apprehend becoming lost, but neither did he wish to walk for seven point six miles through strange streets in the cold night. He deemed it better to simply wait until Fleming and his cohorts were ready to return, at which point he would also protect them from their overindulgence and pilot the vehicle himself.

Still, Spock also did not wish to stand and wait. He moved closer until he stood at Fleming's shoulder. Fleming, bent over with snorting laughter, eventually noticed him. "Sssspock," he slurred, throwing his arm out in a wide gesture. "Y'should come sit. Have a drink! C'mon, guys, make room."

Before the others could shift themselves, Spock replied, "That is unnecessary. I simply wished to inform you, Fleming, that I am interested in exploring the nocturnal shoreline, and intend to take a walk. I shall return within one hour, at which point I believe it wise to return to the Academy."

Exaggerated groans met his words, but Spock was not influenced by the inebriated protests. He would explore the beach, and then he would return and collect the drunken cadets, and then he would not agree to any more of Fleming's invitations, no matter how "lame" Fleming pronounced him. In any case, he did not see the insult in a simple fact of physical disability, and did not understand why humans persisted in using it as such.

He found himself listening intently to the crash and roar of the waves as he strode away, a sound that had startled and unsettled him when he had first heard it within a week of arriving on Earth. Vulcan had no moon, and T'Khut was not close enough to exert tidal forces on what few, and small, oceans Vulcan did have. His initial impression, before he had dismissed it as fanciful, had been that the water sounded angry.

Now, however, Spock found the crash of water strangely soothing. The roar that had unsettled him was caused by nothing more malevolent than Earth's moon exerting gravitational force on the waters that covered so much of the planet's surface. Furthermore, the sound was regular. The fanciful image it currently evoked, and which he often had to dismiss, was of the sound of the tides as the planet's heartbeat.

He walked just along the edge of the intertidal zone, where the damp sand was firmer but the water at low tide could not reach him. The heels of his boots sank into the sand, and wet granules clung to them. Spock resolved to return along the dry sand, which should scour away the damp deposits.

The moon rose nearly full, illuminating the beach well enough for Spock to see even as the fire retreated into the distance. The water gleamed an uneven silver, constantly broken by the movement of the waves. Every so often Spock had to detour around a deposit of kelp, the briny smell strong enough to make him wrinkle his nose in distaste. The clean ocean air was far less overwhelming than the concentration of it found in the knotty kelp.

Soon he came upon a cluster of rocks jutting out into the water, no taller than his chest and perhaps six meters from end to end. Spock had intended to move around them, for he did not fancy climbing around with uncertain footholds in such dim light, but then he noticed something crumpled on top of the pile. It was small and thin and did not seem to be moving, not even in the steady motions of breathing, but it was unexpected and therefore intriguing. And he had intended to explore.

Carefully, Spock placed his hands along the top edge and, upon finding a stable foothold, hoisted himself to the top of the rocks. The stone was damp and seemed spackled with algae, and deep holes covered the surface in small tide pools. Spock glanced into one, but it was too dark for him to see more than the slight weaving of plants and a few bright shells.

He instead turned his attention to the crumpled -- skin? He bent over it and decided that it did seem to be skin of some sort; neither the shape nor the colors were consistent with ordinary human clothing. The skin was light, perhaps yellow or white dotted with darker spots of black and gray. Spock reached out to touch it, and noted that while thin, it seemed quite strong, and was covered in short fur.

Spock looked at it, considering. He spread it out, and decided that the size and coloring seemed consistent with what he knew of the Terran sea mammal _Phoca vitulina_ , commonly called the harbor seal. He had seen a few of the specimens reclining on rocky outcroppings such as this when familiarizing himself with the area surrounding Starfleet Academy. He was unsure if the species molted, but the skin seemed remarkably intact.

"Hey!"

Spock's head jerked up at the shout, and he looked down to see a human male, perhaps a few years younger than himself, standing with his hands on his hips, glaring up at Spock.

  


"Pardon?" Spock said, turning away from the skin. The human immediately moved forward to grab the edge and swing himself over, landing easily and steadily on bare feet. He snatched the skin away before Spock could make a further move.

"This is mine," the human said, protectively tucking it behind him. He took a few steps away from Spock, balancing on the uneven surface without even looking.

"Your pardon," Spock replied carefully. The human was claiming a discarded seal skin? "I was unaware. It had been left unattended."

"I didn't think anyone was out here," the human replied defensively, and, perhaps, accusingly.

Spock considered the young man in front of him. He stood approximately two inches shorter than Spock, a more precise height difficult to determine due to the darkness and uneven footing. His hair and eyes were light, and he wore a white short-sleeved shirt and jeans with the cuffs rolled up to the top of his shins. The denim below his knees clung wetly to his legs, as if he had been standing in the ocean.

"Several...acquaintances and I came to see the beach at night," Spock finally replied. "I did not care for their current mode of discourse, and resolved to take a walk, at which point I discovered your...property."

The human snorted. "The guys getting drunk over there?" he asked, waving his arm in the direction of the fire. Spock nodded, and the human shook his head. "I hate the drunk ones. They always forget to clean up their cans and bottles."

"I will make certain there is no litter when we leave," Spock offered, and was mildly surprised when the human tilted his head slightly and favored him with a slow smile.

"That'd be great," the human replied. He plopped down onto the rocks, crossing his legs and resting the sealskin in his lap. Spock looked at the jutting rocks, damp with sea spray and covered in loose pebbles, and chose to remain standing. "What were you doing with them, anyway? You don't seem the type to get drunk on the beach. You're Vulcan, right?"

"Indeed," Spock affirmed. "I was unaware that alcohol was to be the primary attraction tonight. One of those imbibing is my roommate. He was very...persistent in his invitations, and in his insistence that I 'socialize.'"

The human grinned again. "In other words, he nagged you until you gave in. Well, as long as you're not here to screw up the beach."

Spock waited, but there did not seem to be a consequence following his statement. "That is not my intention," he agreed. "If I may inquire, why are you here? And why do you possess the skin of a seal, and leave it unattended?"

"Hey, I thought it'd be safe here, and that no one was around," the human snapped, leaning forward and placing his hands on his knees. "Most people don't actually hang out on the beach at midnight."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "So why are you?"

The human's posture relaxed slightly and he shrugged. "Mostly because most people don't hang out on the beach at midnight," he replied easily, flashing another smile. "The beach is nice when it's not so crowded. I like it when there are people around, but I also like it when I can have the beach practically to myself."

Spock thought he understood the hint. "In that case, I will leave you to your solitude," he said. He was still curious about the human and the skin, but if the human would not answer, it would be rude to press.

"Oh, you're not so bad to talk to," the human said, still smiling. He smiled so often -- Spock had never seen anyone so expressive. "What's your name?"

"Spock," Spock replied, deciding not to offer his full name, unpronounceable to most humans. "I am a cadet at Starfleet Academy."

The human stiffened, then relaxed. "Starfleet, huh?" he said quietly, looking down into his lap. When he raised his eyes again, they gleamed in the moonlight. "Well, Spock, it's nice to meet you. I'm Jim."

Spock waited for the rest of his name, because he knew that humans typically possessed family names by which they identified themselves, but Jim did not continue. "Do you have a surname?" Spock asked.

"Do you?" Jim returned, one corner of his mouth twitching up, barely discernible in the darkness.

"S'chn T'gai Spock," Spock replied, challenging.

Jim laughed. "Yeah, I can't pronounce that," he admitted cheerfully. He then smoothly stood up, feet finding purchase on the rock with no stumbling, the sealskin clasped tightly in his hand. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Mr. Spock. Maybe we'll see each other again."

He jumped off the edge on the far side of the rock before Spock could even say goodbye. Perplexed by Jim's strange behavior, Spock turned away. It was time he returned to his companions anyway, and made certain they cleaned up their litter and did not manage to kill themselves.

\--

"Cadet Spock," Admiral Archer said upon once again finding him in the library. "I admire your work ethic, but there is such a thing as working too much. Go outside. Get some sunshine."

Spock stood at attention, his hands tucked behind his back. "Sir, with respect, Vulcans--"

"Benefit from a change of pace as much as anyone else," Archer interrupted, eyes sharp. "And I think you'll find that you don't need books or classrooms to learn something. Go outside. In fact, get off campus altogether. I don't want to hear about you being around until at least dinnertime."

Considering it was still three hours before noon, and humans might consider sixteen hundred hours to be an early dinnertime, that left Spock at least seven to find a way to occupy himself outside of Starfleet Academy. He was unsure what to do with it, but saluted Archer anyway. 

The elderly admiral had taken it upon himself to "watch out" for Starfleet's first Vulcan cadet, as he had put it. Spock had disclaimed the necessity of being looked after, but the admiral had insisted. "In memory of an old friend," Archer had said with a small smile. Spock had had no choice but to accede.

Spock was unused to having two days without scheduled classes, and usually spent his "weekend" in the library. When practicable, he brought materials back to his room and studied there, but Fleming often had guests, and even when he did not, he preferred to study with background noise he tried to call music. Spock did not feel it to be a conducive learning environment, and rarely spent time in his room when not sleeping. Even meditation thus far he preferred to engage in while at the quiet library, or some other deserted corner of the campus.

Spock considered his options. Admiral Archer's instructions had been imprecise, and Spock could interpret them as simply an order to remove himself from the campus, whereupon he was free to resume his studying. However, Spock's experience with humans led him to believe that one could not take every statement as a literal expression of their intentions. His own mother was more direct than humans on Earth seemed to be, but even she was apt to instruct through implication.

While Spock was inclined to take the admiral's order literally, he recognized part of this impulse as pique from being ordered to desist in his chosen activity. Pique was not a valid reason for not complying with the spirit as well as the letter of the order. Admiral Archer had seemed to wish that Spock not spend the day working; therefore, he should not simply take his padd and resume working at the nearest Marin County public library.

Earth had much to occupy his interest outside of academics. The planet contained an abundance of both flora and fauna, much of it growing free beneath the gentler warmth of Sol. Eridani's harsher heat drove much of Vulcan's life underground. Rarely was such biodiversity as Spock had observed on Earth readily seen on Vulcan.

Spock could have chosen to walk through one of the many parks in the area, as he had before when he had first arrived on the planet. He found, however, that his greatest interest today was not in Earth's vibrant plantlife. He thought, as he had many times in the weeks since his midnight meeting with Jim on Ocean Beach, that there was something about the ocean that drew his attention, and not least because of strange humans claiming sealskins. If nothing else, he welcomed the familiarity of sand, even paired as it was with the deep unknown of the ocean.

Spock thus arrived at Baker Beach, the closest to Starfleet Academy, still clad in his cadet uniform, though he had left behind his padd. The beach was far more crowded during the day, inundated with the laughter of human children, the hum of conversations blending into each other, and the cries of seabirds. Several people, who all seemed to wear only the minimum their society required for decency, glanced at him as he walked past in full uniform, but Spock ignored them. The day was perhaps warm by their standards, but by his own, the heavier material was welcome.

He traveled on, observing with interest such human childhood rituals as building sandcastles. It seemed a perplexing practice, for such castles were inevitably demolished -- if not by the approaching water, then by the children themselves, who inexplicably laughed as they knocked over their own work, only to begin again.

Perhaps three hundred meters from his entry point, Spock observed a game between older human adolescents involving a net, a white ball, and much diving onto the sand. One human, who played with his back to Spock, seemed familiar, but only when he turned to run after the ball did Spock recognize him. It was Jim, his hair a burnished gold in the sunlight and his eyes a deep blue. The smile on his face broadened when he saw Spock.

"Spock!" Jim called, grabbing the ball and jogging over to meet Spock as his companions turned to watch. "Nice to see you again. You here to study?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at Spock's uniform.

"Negative," Spock replied, looking over Jim's shoulder to his friends. "I simply did not see a reason to change clothing."

Jim ignored his friends' impatient calls and gestures. "That's going to be a problem," he said. His tone was serious, but his eyes gleamed. "The beach is a no-formality zone, and that uniform is pretty much the essence of formality."

"Is this a rule?" Spock asked, quirking an eyebrow, quite sure it was nothing so...formal.

But Jim grinned and nodded vociferously. "Oh yes. It is, in fact, so established a rule that this beach is actually a nude beach. The people who want to go completely _au naturale_ stay to the north side, usually. We're pretty lenient about the clothing over here, but I don't know that we can countenance a full uniform."

"Have you a remedy to suggest?" Spock asked. Casual public nudity baffled him, even for humans. He had no intention of going naked on the beach, but he was not opposed to continuing conversation with Jim.

Jim paused, looking him up and down. Then, "Lose the shoes," he said decisively. "I'll let you keep the jacket and pants, but you can't wear boots on a beach."

Spock debated complying, but sand retained heat well, and his discomfort would primarily come from the incompleteness of his uniform. Now that he had met Jim again, who remained intriguing, Spock did not wish to chase him away through excessive formality.

He bent down and began to remove his shoes.

When he straightened, boots held together in one hand, he was struck by Jim's bright grin and outstretched hand.

"Great!" Jim announced. "Now come play volleyball with us. My team's a player short, so this is perfect. Have you ever played volleyball before?"

Spock eyed the net, and the other players. "I have not," he replied. "But should you not ask your companions first if I would be welcome?"

Jim waved off his concern. "Oh, they won't mind," he said. "Come on, I'll introduce you." And when Spock did not move, Jim reached out and took his wrist, tugging it lightly before letting go. "Come on!"

Spock went. The contact had been too brief, and his mental shields still established, for him to have gotten much mental feedback from Jim, but the only thing he had felt was welcome.

"Okay, this is Sean, Samantha, Jenny, and Doug." Each waved as Jim said his or her name. They, too, bore welcoming smiles, but Samantha and Doug's seemed to have the edge of a smirk. They, along with Jenny, appeared to be on the team opposing Jim, if Spock interpreted their positions relative to the net correctly.

Jim noticed the smirks, and sent one back to them before turning to Spock. "Okay, we play pretty casually here, but there are some basic rules. You score points by driving the ball into the sand on their side of the net, but within the bounds. They're going to try to reach the ball before that happens and send it back over here to do the same to us. You can't touch the net, go out of bounds, or hit the ball twice consecutively. We also can't hit the ball more than three times between the three of us before sending it over the net. You got it?"

"Your explanation is sufficient," Spock replied, "though I believe I would prefer to observe the game in play before undertaking to play myself."

Jim tilted his head. "We can let the other team serve," he offered. "You don't have to go after the ball right away when it's on our side, but if you can see a play, you can make it."

Spock considered it, then nodded. "An agreeable course of action," he said, and watched as Jim threw the ball to Jenny, who stepped just outside of the crudely-drawn lines of the 'court.' She held one arm out straight, the ball balanced on her hand, then tossed it up and hit it across the net. Jim reached it before it could hit the sand, tossing it up and slightly to the side, whereupon Sean moved forward and hit it back across the net.

Spock observed three return volleys before he made his move, beginning to understand why Jim wished him to play. As Samantha set up a shot for Doug, Spock moved forward to stand beside Jim. The ball launched over the net, and Jim glanced at him out of the corner of his eye before running up and tossing the ball in Spock's direction. Spock jumped, and, calculating the angle and force in the split-second he had before the ball reached his hand, he hit it across the net and neatly into an unprotected corner of sand.

Jim met Spock's eyes as the other team groaned loudly. Spock was not adept at reading the expression in human eyes, but even he could see the warmth in Jim's. Warmth for Spock, whom he barely knew, but still welcomed into a game with established friends.

Spock was quite satisfied to continue playing.

When the other team had finally begged off further play, claiming the need to find something else to "boost their egos," Jim plopped down in the sand and motioned for Spock to join him. When Spock simply stood there, seeing no reason to get sand on and possibly in his uniform, Jim heaved a sigh and let himself fall backward until he was lying down.

"Just sit down, Spock," Jim complained. "The sand won't bite, and I can't talk to you when you're all the way up there."

Gingerly, taking care to position himself so the sand could not shift into his clothing, Spock sat down beside Jim.

He did not understand why Jim wished to speak to him. Why, after one brief, perplexing initial meeting, Jim had so enthusiastically enlisted his time and effort in a human game, and why he still wished Spock's company even after the game's end and his own friends began to leave.

But Spock also did not want to, as his mother would say, "look a gift horse in the mouth."

"You were pretty awesome, for never having played before," Jim complimented from his supine position.

Spock inclined his head. "It is not excessively complicated," he said. "The intricacies of working in a team combined with the physics and geometry of scoring a point made this volleyball...a diverting use of my time."

Jim grinned, then rolled onto his side. "Play any other sports?"

"I do not," Spock replied. "I am versed in Vulcan martial arts, but I have only been on Earth for three point two months. I have spent most of that time on academics."

Jim sat up. "Really? Have you seen much of Earth at all?"

"Negative. I have familiarized myself with some areas of San Francisco, but have not found it necessary to leave the city, particularly when my primary focus has been my coursework."

Jim shook his head. "There's more to life than coursework, and more to learn than what school can teach you. Have you spent much time on Earth before now?" At Spock's negative, a determined look passed over Jim's face. "I'm going to show you more of this planet. San Francisco's great, but most of the best things on Earth can't be found in any city."

"That is not necessary," Spock protested, though he was struck by Jim's unwitting echo of Admiral Archer's admonishment.

"It is," Jim insisted, and stood up. Spock got to his feet as well, his still-bare toes sinking into the sand. "If you want to succeed in Starfleet, you have to be open to new things, new people, new experiences. That's why you joined, right? I can't imagine a Vulcan joining specifically for the military aspects."

"You are correct," Spock replied, startled. "I joined Starfleet specifically for the opportunity to explore and make new discoveries."

"Well, you can start right now," Jim said, his hands on his hips. Then he tilted his head and smiled. "But first, let me buy you lunch."

Bemused but controlling his expression, wondering if he could even begin to understand this strange human, Spock agreed.

\--

Because the place Jim wanted to show Spock was apparently outside the city limits, and Jim did not currently have access to a private vehicle, they made plans to meet the next weekend. Or rather, Jim made plans, and Spock acquiesced. He had no objections beyond the secrecy, but Jim seemed to wish to make it a "surprise." Spock did not see the point of surprises, but Jim had insisted.

It had occurred to Spock that they were still near strangers, and he had agreed to go with Jim to an undisclosed location for an undisclosed period of time. While he was confident in his ability to subdue, if necessary, a single human, Spock was not naive. He could not assume that Jim had his best wishes in mind.

But whenever Spock thought to cancel their outing -- or, for lack of contact information, simply refuse to go with Jim when he arrived to pick Spock up -- he could not bring himself to make that decision. He told himself that Jim had only exhibited friendliness, and he had sensed no malicious plans during their brief touch, but that was only partly the reason he showed up at the Academy gates when Jim arrived.

He trusted Jim, despite their brief acquaintance. Something inside him prodded him to trust Jim, and while ordinarily Spock would not rely on a nebulous confidence, he could find no reason to _distrust_ Jim. So when Jim's car stopped, Spock opened the door and slid inside, pulling the door shut after him. Jim smiled a greeting at him, and he felt inexplicably assured.

"Am I now to be told our destination?" Spock asked dryly as Jim started to drive.

"Nope." Jim glanced sidelong at him. "I debated making you wear a blindfold, but eventually I decided that you should get to see the scenic route."

"I would not have worn a blindfold."

Jim glanced at him again, a smile pulling up the corner of his mouth. "Oh, I think I might have convinced you."

Disturbed, Spock realized he was correct. Spock had shown himself to be...willing to be convinced, when it came to Jim.

How had this happened? They had barely spoken, and already Spock felt more comfortable with Jim than he had with most of his own people.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked. He had not quite meant to voice his thoughts, but he would not retract them. He truly wanted to know.

"I told you," Jim replied, "you should see more of Earth--"

Spock shook his head. "Perhaps I should," he said, "but why appoint yourself to rectify a gap in my experience? Jim, we are not friends."

"Aren't we?" Jim shrugged, even as he merged into traffic across the Golden Gate Bridge. "Spock, have you ever just...wanted to know someone?"

You, Spock thought but did not say. The impulse toward knowing Jim was almost instinctual. Part of Spock distrusted it, and part of Spock fought against his distrust.

When Spock remained silent, Jim continued, "You were different, that night on the beach when we first met. You're the first Vulcan in Starfleet, Spock. I've never met anyone who stepped so far out of his comfort zone."

Spock felt a strange pang of disappointment. "I was a novelty?"

Jim briefly turned his face to look at Spock full on, catching his eye. "You say that like it's a bad thing," he said, holding Spock's gaze for a moment before he turned his attention back to the road. "Didn't you tell me last time that you wanted to make new discoveries?"

He had not anticipated being the discovery himself -- but now he realized that being himself a novelty was the inevitable other half of new discovery, at least when it came to meeting new civilizations. He would be new, someone about whom others learned even as he learned himself.

For all his life, Spock had been a novelty as an experiment, the first Vulcan-human hybrid -- and according to many on Vulcan, a failed experiment. But Jim did not know that Spock was half-human. He saw only Spock, and wanted to know more about him...even if his interest had initially been piqued by the novelty.

And Jim, too, was a novelty to Spock. "I have never met anyone like you," he offered in return, and knew that Jim understood him when Jim turned to look at him again, his eyes light.

"Besides," Jim added, "you participated too. You didn't have to play volleyball with me, or agree to come on this trip."

"That is true," Spock agreed quietly.

He would have much to meditate on later, he thought.

They continued to drive for fifty-eight minutes, sometimes in companionable silence, sometimes speaking. Jim told Spock about his travels up and down the California coast -- his mother was from the Bay Area, and he and his family still spent much time there, particularly as Jim was now a student at Stanford. But Jim described his youth traveling with his family along the coast, his mother and aunts and uncles teaching him and his brother the standard Terran academic curriculum, as well as some other subjects on which Jim did not elucidate.

"I think it gave me a bit of wanderlust," Jim commented at the end of his description. "I've never really felt settled in one place. I'll probably finish the degree at Stanford, but I don't know where I'll go after that."

He did not mention his father, and Spock did not ask. He did not think he would have been answered.

The landscape had gradually changed as they drove further south. The urban cityscape of the greater San Francisco metropolitan area gave way to green fields, and then, gradually, to trees. Many trees.

Finally Jim said, as they turned toward what could only be a forest, "Welcome to Big Basin Redwood State Park, California's oldest state park. We don't have time to do my favorite trail, that takes a couple days, but you can't live in Northern California without seeing the redwoods."

Vulcan had very few forests, most in the few temperate regions around the poles. The most Spock had seen before were larger groves of trees at oases, but none of those stretched out in front of him further than he could see.

Many of the trees on the Academy campus were turning shades of yellow, orange, and red. Redwoods, as Spock recalled, were coniferous evergreens, as the sea of green spreading in front of him proved. Cast against a backdrop blue sky, the colors mixed pleasingly, bright blue blending into a deep green. Earth was such a vivid planet, painted in colors that did not seem quite natural to Spock, though of course they were.

"The trail I was planning is about three and a half miles," Jim said cheerfully as they parked and left the car. "I brought lunch, and there are several places we can sit and eat. It's a pretty easy walk, but it's got some amazing sights. Have you ever seen a waterfall?"

"Not one of any stature," Spock replied, looking up at the redwoods. They towered tall enough that Spock could not estimate their height with any accuracy. "Vulcan is not completely bereft of water, or of moving water. It is simply not available in such...abundance."

Jim nodded. "I think a lot of humans take the water on Earth for granted," he said. "When they finally hit the Industrial Revolution, reckless and widespread pollution started happening. It was only in the last century that they got their mess all cleaned up. We only have the barest idea of everything we lost thanks to our ancestors' lack of foresight."

Spock noted the pronouns Jim used. Did he mean to dissociate himself from humans in this regard? "They?" he asked. They started on the trail, and Spock found himself continually looking around him and up. Sunlight through the trees dappled the ground in spots of brightness, shifting as tree branches moved with the breeze.

"What, it's not like I was alive then," Jim replied, smiling a little when Spock looked at him. "I don't know how much most people on Earth think about the life in the ocean that's been choked out along the path to 'progress'--" and Spock could hear the contempt infused in that word, "--but I think that everyone will learn at some point what we lost."

"The ocean means a great deal to you," Spock observed. He moved slightly off the trail, reaching out to touch the bark of a tree so wide his arms would barely curve if they tried to reach around it. Patches of moss covered the bark just above his hand, and he could see small insects moving amid the wood.

Jim was silent for a moment, and Spock turned to look back at him. He stood in a patch of sunlight. His hair gleamed, but his face was half in shadow.

"I've always felt connected to the sea," Jim finally replied. "Some people are just like that. In the days before space flight, sailors could spend most of their lives at sea, only stepping ashore for brief periods before the sea called them back home."

"The sea called them?"

Jim looked at him, his eyes serious and deep. "Haven't you heard its voice?" he asked. "It may not call to everyone with the same strength, but it does call."

Jim walked along the dusty trails of an old forest, his head bowed, and for a moment Spock perceived nothing but a curious dissonance: Jim did not belong here. He stood out -- his hair, his eyes, even the way he moved, striding forward as if expecting the way to open in front of him, as if he could set himself against the enormous trees and win. Perhaps Jim enjoyed this place, but Spock thought he would never be more than a visitor.

Spock suddenly wanted very much to see Jim in his element. The beach was close, he thought, but even then there was something in the way Jim stood upon the sand. There was something missing, and Spock wanted to know what it was.

Three tenths of a mile past the campground, they came upon a tree with an inverted 'v' at its base. Jim raised an eyebrow, and said, "Go ahead. Look inside."

Spock moved forward, ducking his head and coming to stand at the center of the tree. A tree that was hollow, but, Spock realized, still alive. He put his hand against the bark and could feel the life. In the absence of sentience he could feel no telepathic impressions, but the sense of life remained.

"Nature is extraordinary," Spock commented to Jim as he exited the tree, and Jim inclined his head in agreement.

  


Already Spock could hear the roar of falling water, and another tenth of a mile saw them to a waterfall, the pool surrounded by dense ferns. Jim turned them toward a picnic table several meters away, blending in as well as its structure permitted. "I thought this would be a good place to eat lunch," he said, and pulled a container out of his backpack.

He had brought a kind of grain salad -- "Orzo," Jim said -- as well as two apples. Spock took his salad as it was, but noticed that Jim added what appeared to be salmon to his. The food was not Spock's typical fare, but he enjoyed it, and the variety.

"I've always wanted to swim in that pool," Jim commented between bites of his apple. "I like swimming under waterfalls. It's not really deep enough, though, and the park service doesn't encourage people wading in."

"Swimming beneath a waterfall?" Spock repeated dubiously. Surely the feel of water inexorably pounding down on one was not a pleasant feeling.

Jim smiled. "I'll have to show you sometime. Water can give a pretty good massage, you know."

"As it happens, I do not. I cannot swim."

Jim blinked at him. "Really? Huh. I guess I can see that. Not much call for it on Vulcan, I suppose. But surely Starfleet teaches you to swim?"

"I am only in my first term as a cadet," Spock replied, looking at the rough wood of the table. It was inexplicably difficult to relate any deficiency, even one that could be remedied. "Starfleet will require me to pass a swimming test prior to graduation, but the timetable of when I may do so is at my discretion."

"Hmm." Jim propped his chin up with one hand. "Do you have a teacher?"

Slowly, Spock shook his head. He could see where Jim's thoughts were heading, and was unsure if he should anticipate or protest the coming idea. "It had not yet seemed a priority."

Jim set both hands down on the table and nodded decisively. Then, as Spock expected, he said, "I'll teach you."

Anticipation won out. Perhaps he would later protest upon evaluating Jim as a teacher, but his initial reaction was, undeniably, anticipation.


	2. Chapter 2

Spock thoroughly enjoyed the rest of the day spent in the forest, but when Jim proposed starting their swimming lessons the next day, Spock refused. Perhaps one day of his weekend he might spend on his own amusements, but he was on Earth for academic pursuits, and would not neglect them.

They therefore made arrangements to meet the next Saturday at a public indoor pool. Jim said he knew one few people frequented, which was accessible through public transportation. Spock procured swimwear -- disturbingly brief, but he could not find a suit that covered more than the area from his hips to his thighs on such short notice -- and showed up at the pool the next weekend with all the necessary equipment.

Jim met him inside, his own swimsuit shorter than Spock's, and quite...tight. Spock turned his attention to the pool, half of which was bracketed off in lanes through which four people swam. The other half of the pool was empty, and it was to this side that Jim led him.

"Alright," Jim began. "Most people find the water cold when they first get in, so you're probably going to find it colder. You can move in slowly and gradually acclimatize yourself to the temperature, or you can make your body do it more quickly by dunking yourself immediately."

"Which do you suggest?" Spock asked.

Jim smiled. "I usually do it all at once, but I actually would rather you do it gradually. This first lesson is for you to learn how the water feels, how you and the water will interact. Go ahead and use the steps at the shallow end, and go deeper when you feel ready."

Spock found Jim's intended lesson to be a logical first step, and moved to the steps. The first brought him ankle deep, and while the water was cooler than he would prefer, it was well within his ability to handle.

"Do you know your density?" Jim asked as he slipped into the pool. He submerged his body fully, and when his head broke the surface again, he raised dripping hands and pushed wet hair away from his face. He stood only deep enough for the water to reach his chest. 

"Approximately point nine eight nine grams per cubic centimeter," Spock replied. "Vulcan bones are denser than human, but our muscles are less so. I should be able to float."

Jim nodded, and watched as Spock moved forward another two steps, so the water reached his lower thighs. The water was not quite numbing, but it did lessen the sensation in his skin so he could more easily tolerate the temperature. Moving in water required more force as he encountered the water's resistance. He walked along the length of the step, determining how much force was needed for maximum efficiency.

Soon he moved deeper, into the pool proper, where the water covered up to his waist. Walking was easier when his entire lower half was covered and he stopped feeling like he was half walking and half wading.

He worked his way deeper until he stood in front of Jim, who had simply been watching him. The water lapped gently against his chest and upper arms, and Spock considered his body's reaction to being thus submerged. He was slightly chilled, but well within his tolerance. He had acclimated to the force required to walk in this environment. The feel of the water itself against his skin...he was less able to quantify. It was not unpleasant. Spock left it at that.

"Okay," Jim said, "now I want you to float on your back. It might take some effort to remain floating, so don't worry about that. I'm going to be right here in case you need me."

In response, Spock tilted his body back and kicked his legs up until he floated on his back. Jim was correct; he did have to maintain concentration to keep himself above the surface. His head sank back, water covering his ears until sound was distorted, but he had to focus on keeping his head up. The rest of his body as well had to exert pressure to keep itself afloat. His body's density compared to the water's was such that he could float, but he would have to be conscious to do so.

He stood up again, shaking his head briefly to get the water out of his ears, then looked at Jim. Jim lay on his back, floating with no visible effort. His eyes were closed, his face relaxed. Then Spock took a step forward, the water splashing around him, and Jim opened his eyes and turned his face just enough to look at Spock.

"You have to trust the water," he said quietly, but Spock could still hear him even over the other swimmers doing laps. "You have to understand it. It's not precisely alive, but it has moods. You have to respect them."

"Trust, understanding, and respect," Spock repeated. "These are the necessary components to being able to swim?"

Jim smiled, facing the ceiling once again. "Not for the basic act of swimming, no," he replied. "Plenty of people never do more than push themselves through the water, trying to shove it out of their way. If you want to be comfortable in the water, Spock, you have to be comfortable _with_ the water. Every good relationship needs respect, trust, and understanding." He took a breath and dove beneath the surface from his reclining position, flipping over his head and moving up until he stood, water dripping trails down his skin. "Starfleet requires you to learn to swim in the event that you need it. If you end up needing it, you want the best method."

Spock understood. The Vulcan desert was the same way -- temperamental, but navigable if understood.

Jim looked at him, eyes bluer than the water. He tilted his head slightly, watching. "Come on," he said finally. "I'll show you about treading water."

\--

Lessons progressed as the weather got colder. Spock quickly became a competent swimmer in the pool, but was aware that, should he need to apply his lessons, the water in which he found himself would not likely be so calm.

"Not during winter," Jim said firmly, when Spock brought up swimming in the ocean. "The Pacific gets pretty damn cold this far north. We can get you a wetsuit, and that'll help, but we either wait until it gets warmer or we go south."

Spock did not feel it appropriate to leave the city for long periods of time during the term, so he resigned himself to waiting. In all honesty, he was also relieved. The ocean had been cold enough in the autumn, but now the wind seemed to press cold into his bones. The pool, at least, could be heated.

Unfortunately, with the advent of colder weather, more people began to seek out the heated pool. Some of these were children, who, in appalling displays of carelessness, often engaged in behavior such as running around the pool area, heedless of the puddles of water they could slip on. Spock, who did not feel it was his place to chastise them, nevertheless kept one eye on them, but they never fell.

Or perhaps they were simply saving their falls so as to do the greatest amount of damage. Spock, at the termination of one lesson, had returned to the locker room to change into his clothes, then entered the pool area once again to wait for Jim. Jim enjoyed lingering in the pool, and sometimes stayed upwards of several minutes before he could bring himself to leave. The first time Spock had noticed his reluctance, he had volunteered to make his own way back to the Academy, as he had not done since their first lesson -- Jim preferred to transport Spock himself. Spock found it unnecessary, but it seemed important to Jim, so he acquiesced. But Jim had said that he only needed a few more minutes, and Spock did not mind waiting.

This time as Spock waited by the side of the pool, however, he felt something barrel into his legs, knocking his feet out from under him. He tossed his bag of belongings to the side as he fell, but was unable to twist in time to avoid the water. He hit the pool fully dressed, unprepared, the impact knocking breath from his lungs as the water closed over his head.

He was unprepared, but not stunned. It took him a mere moment to orient himself and move upward until he broke the surface, taking in a breath of air. He raised a hand to remove wet hair from his face and saw Jim close by, his hand stretched out as if to reach for Spock. Spock shook his head slightly, indicating he had no need for help, and Jim nodded and hung back as Spock swam to the closest ladder, drenched clothes weighing him down more than the sleek swimsuit.

He pulled himself from the water, his clothes dripping unpleasantly, and looked to where he had been standing before his fall. A young boy sat there, his eyes wide and lower lip trembling.

"I'm sorry!" the boy howled as soon as Spock looked at him. "I didn't mean to knock you over!"

"But you did," Spock replied evenly. He did not wish to scare the child, but there would be no harm in impressing upon him the seriousness of his actions.

"That's why I've told you to stop running around the pool," an exasperated voice said from behind Spock. He turned to see a frowning woman, likely the boy's mother. She reached out a hand, and the boy scrambled up and took it. Then she looked at Spock. "I'm sorry for Charlie, sir. I don't know how many times I've told him, and he never listens." She glared at the boy, Charlie. "Perhaps we're done coming to the pool until he learns how to be here safely."

"Mommy!" the boy protested, but he felt quiet as he looked at Spock again, then away.

"Sounds appropriate to me," Jim said, coming up to stand at Spock's side. He passed him a towel, and Spock gratefully wrapped it around himself. Jim crouched down to look at the boy. "You're pretty lucky that my friend fell into the water. He could have hit his head if he fell on the tile. Or you could have."

The boy's lip's trembling increased, and he buried his face in his mother's legs.

When Charlie and his mother left, Jim sighed. "I don't suppose you have any other clothes?" he asked, looking unsurprised when Spock answered in the negative. "Okay. I don't think we're the same shoe size, but you can have my shirt and socks for now. The car's heated, and my apartment is close by. We can get something dry for you there."

"That would be acceptable," Spock replied, thinking of the long walk from the Academy gates to his dormitory. "It is appreciated, Jim."

Jim waved off his thanks. "Not a problem. Come on, let's get going before you freeze."

Jim's shirt was slightly too big on Spock, from Jim's stockier frame. His socks remained only marginally dryer, once Spock put them inside wet shoes. Jim wore one towel draped across his shoulders and gave the other to Spock to wear around his waist, and Spock squished his way to the car, suppressing a grimace with more effort than he customarily used. Damp footwear was highly unpleasant.

He felt better once in the heated car, and took care not to drip all over the seats. As much as he did not appreciate the circumstances, he anticipated seeing Jim's apartment. After sixteen point seven minutes of driving, they arrived. The cold air that hit Spock as he got out of the car felt worse than usual, the wet clothes providing inferior insulation.

Jim hurried Spock up the outdoor stairs to an apartment on the third floor, putting a palm on the reader and ushering Spock forward again as the door slid open. The room was chill, but Jim called out, "Computer, raise temperature five degrees," and almost immediately, Spock could feel the increasing warmth.

Spock barely had time to take in the spare, clean living room when Jim motioned him to follow down a hallway with three doors, two of them closed. Jim led him into a bedroom, probably Jim's, then started rummaging around in a dresser. He pulled out a pair of black slacks and plain black t-shirt, tossing them to Spock. "Get changed, and we can put your clothes in the dryer," he said, and then was gone, pulling the door closed behind him.

Spock quickly stripped and pulled on the new clothes, gratified at the lack of clinging dampness. He gathered the wet clothes, then paused to look at the room.

Like the living room, Jim's bedroom was both clean and spare. The bedcovers and pillows were a simple blue. The side table had a picture of Jim with an older woman with his smile and a man perhaps a few years older who looked very similar to Jim. His family.

Apart from that, the room had very little proclaiming an occupant lived there. A pair of shoes by the closet, a partly opened drawer revealing clothes. The walls were bare, and other flat surfaces lacked the keepsakes and mementoes that Spock had discovered humans liked to keep.

This room was not what Spock would have imagined, had he considered Jim's living space.

Spock returned to the living room to find Jim sprawled on the sofa, poking at a padd. He looked up at Spock's entrance and smiled, then bounded up. "Here, let me just take those to the laundry for you," he announced, grabbing the wet clothes and striding down the hallway again. He returned in short order, offered Spock his hospitality as they waited for the clothes to dry, showed him to the computer when he accepted, and settled down on the sofa again.

Half an hour later, Spock was surprised at the sound of a door opening and the creak of footsteps down the hall. He turned around to see another man emerge from the hallway, and was easily able to place him from both the picture on Jim's bedside table and his resemblance to Jim. This would be Jim's brother.

"Sam!" Jim leaped up again, tossing his padd onto a cushion. "I didn't know you were here!"

"I was taking a nap," Sam replied, looking past Jim to Spock. "So this is--"

"Spock," Jim interrupted, motioning Spock forward. "I can't pronounce his full name, and you won't be able to either, so just call him Spock. Spock, this is my brother Sam."

Sam rolled his eyes. "It's George," he said, keeping his arms crossed over his chest. "You're the only one who calls me Sam, Jim."

Jim shrugged. "Whatever. George, then. Spock, George. George, Spock."

Spock inclined his head and raised his hand in the ta'al. "It is nice to meet you, George."

George did not reciprocate the gesture, but he did incline his head as well. "Yeah, you too. Jim, can I talk to you?"

Jim sighed, but he followed George down the hallway. Spock returned to the computer, but he could hear voices. Not entirely clearly, but he thought it likely that Jim's brother did not realize how acute Vulcan hearing was.

"--you thinking, Jim?" George was saying, his voice intense. "Does he even know?"

"--oesn't have to know," Jim replied defensively. "He's my friend, it's not like it--"

Spock turned his attention away. If there was something Jim did not want him to know, he preferred not to find out against Jim's will.

\--

The swimming lessons were not the only activity Jim and Spock engaged in together. Jim began issuing Spock invitations to go see the science museum, or the art museum, or explore Chinatown. Unlike Fleming, Jim's proposed activities had educational or cultural merit, and Spock saw no reason to refuse them.

And if, in his mind, he began to call Jim his friend, and anticipate and enjoy his presence...he was not on Vulcan. His clan's disapproval could not reach him here.

One of Spock's favorites, however, became the time Jim took him to the Monterey Aquarium.

"San Francisco has aquariums, of course," Jim said, waving a hand dismissively. "And they're not necessarily bad. Sausalito has an okay one for cetaceans. Monterey just has the _best_ aquarium on the west coast."

So Jim took Spock to Monterey, further even than the redwood forest. He parked in front of large buildings labeled CANNERY ROW, and pointed to them, saying, "Those have been around for centuries. There's a novel called _Cannery Row_ from the early twentieth century by a guy from this area. You should read it. I think you'd enjoy Steinbeck."

The aquarium in front of them was a very large building, and one of the first things Spock saw upon walking in was a tank three times his height full of water and small swimming furred animals. "Otters," Jim said, as Spock watched them glide gracefully through the water.

The two of them watched as the otters were fed, which the crowd around them seemed to enjoy heartily, if the children laughing and banging on the glass were any indication. The aquarium staff had the otters perform tricks in many cases to earn their fish, so Spock could understand the humans' enthusiasm, though he did not share it.

There were several other large tanks of multiple stories through which many different varieties of fish swam. Spock's favorite had a tunnel through the middle so that when one passed through, it seemed as if one walked along the ocean floor. Schools of silvered fish passed above them in billowing clouds, and to the side, more colorful fish darted in and out of holes in porous rock and weaved among swaying green plants.

Another series of rooms contained multitudes of jellyfish, a creature of fascinating shape and mobility. Some were as small as his thumbnail, tiny moving spots of glowing white amid dark water. Others drifted in ribboning schools, some at the tail falling behind until their expand-and-contract movement brought them closer to their fellows again.

The humans, too, were interesting to watch. They "ooohed" and "ahhhed" at regular intervals, and verbally followed the progress of particular specimens as if others around them were unable to see for themselves. In front of the larger tanks with many species, children would bang on the glass when a shark passed by, as if to catch its attention. They groaned if it ignored them and laughed if it came near, though Spock thought in all likelihood the children's actions had no effect on the shark's chosen route.

One of the last exhibits Spock and Jim visited was entitled Life in the Bay, which was a wide two-story exhibit that included both a deep pool and an outcropping of rocks and sandy beach. Spock and Jim watched from the second, outdoor story as fish of various sizes and colors swam through the pool and sandpipers sped across the sand around the gentle lapping of the pool's generated waves.

Dark furry heads bobbed across the surface of the water, and Jim pointed across to the rocks, where large, sleek bodies of mixed colors of yellow, brown, and gray lay sprawled. "Harbor seals," Jim said, as Spock soon recognized for himself. "They used to be really common in the area and around the world, but the wars of the late twentieth and early twenty-first century decimated the population. They just lived too close to shore -- they're not really deep sea animals. Weapons hitting coastal cities often hit them too. The population is coming back, but it's still not quite what it was."

The wind changed, blowing from behind Spock and Jim and towards the exhibit. A few of the seals lifted their heads, barking, then slid into the water. The ones already in the water swam closer to the crowd at the barrier, moving in sinuous shapes right in front of Spock and Jim. A few children in the crowd exclaimed and laughed, reaching as far as they could across the wide barrier. 

Jim simply rested crossed arms on the barrier and smiled down at the group of seals, cavorting together right beneath him. They swam below the surface and bobbed their heads back up at regular intervals, and each time one surfaced, its head turned up to face their section of the crowd. Spock got the strange impression that the seals were inviting the crowd to come play with them.

Jim must have got the same impression, because he smiled, shook his head slightly, and murmured, "Maybe next time." Then he turned to Spock and inclined his head, and they made their way through the press of people watching the playing seals.

They spent the entire day in the aquarium, and had dinner together in the cafe. Jim got fish, but Spock was satisfied with the vegetarian options.

"So how do you like Earth so far?" Jim asked between bites.

"I appreciate the visible diversity," Spock replied. "Vulcan, at first glance, is much more...uniform."

"At first glance?"

"Many desert species live underground," Spock explained. "And some of the greatest biodiversity is in the oases, which are comparatively few. As well, we have fewer aquatic species."

"Makes sense," Jim agreed. "Do you miss Vulcan?"

Spock looked away. He did, and he did not. His feelings were illogically tangled. "I miss the familiarity," he finally said, "but I appreciate the chance for an extended stay on Earth."

"What about your family?"

Spock could not help stiffening slightly before making himself relax. "My father did not approve of my choosing Starfleet over the Vulcan Science Academy. My mother..."

His mother wanted him to be happy. He did not know if he was capable of that. Contentment and satisfaction, perhaps, but he had never experienced what he believed humans would term happiness.

"Your mother?" Jim prompted after a moment.

"My mother wishes me to find a personally fulfilling career," Spock finished.

Jim, perhaps hearing the finality in his tone, did not pursue the topic further. The aquarium closed soon after they finished their meals, and the trip back to San Francisco was quieter than the trip down to Monterey.

\--

Spock agreed to wait until warmer weather to learn to swim in the ocean, but his Starfleet proficiency test would not require that skill. Starfleet only asked its cadets to prove their abilities in the Academy's swimming pool, which Spock knew to be larger -- Olympic sized, he believed was the term -- than the pool to which Jim had been taking him. Spock therefore determined it would be useful to have experience in the pool in which he would take his test.

Jim agreed with his reasoning, but seemed strangely reluctant about it. Spock had noticed that Jim never came further inside the Academy than its gates, despite the invitations Spock had twice given him. "You do not have to come," Spock assured him, feeling a strange pang in his abdomen. "I have grown competent enough that I am unlikely to drown."

Jim laughed. "Unlikely, sure. Nah, I'll come."

But as he walked beside Spock across the grounds to the pool, Jim seemed restless, twitchy. He constantly looked around, but did not seem to be searching for anything in particular. His hands were constantly in motion.

"Jim," Spock finally said, stopping him with a hand on his shoulder. "What is wrong?"

Jim frowned at him. "What do you mean? Nothing's wrong."

Spock shook his head. "I am aware of your discomfort. I will not make you remain if you wish to be elsewhere."

Jim blew out a breath. "It's fine. It's nothing."

"Jim."

Jim turned away, glanced at him out of the corner of his eye with a little smile. "So stubborn, Spock." He wandered to a tree a short distance away, the bark gray and branches bare. He leaned against the trunk, crossing his arms over his chest and looking up at the cloudy sky. "My parents were in Starfleet," he said abruptly. "Did I ever tell you that?"

Spock moved to stand closer to him. He did not reach out and touch Jim, but he hoped to offer support nonetheless. "You did not."

"Yeah, well, they were. Mom joined for Dad -- she met him here, in San Francisco. He was from Iowa, and came out here to be a cadet. They met and they fell in love and she joined Starfleet so she could stay with him."

Jim had never mentioned his father. Other members of his immediate and extended family, yes, but never his father. "I assume your mother is no longer a member of Starfleet?"

Jim rested his head against the bark of the tree, rolling it just slightly until he could look at Spock. "Yeah. My dad...my dad died. In the line of duty. Just as I was being born. It broke my mom's heart, and she retired and came back home."

"I grieve with thee," Spock murmured, leaning in close, unsure if Jim would welcome his touch. His body language remained very defensive.

Jim pushed himself away from the tree, dropping his hands. "It's fine, Spock. I never even knew him. Come on, let's get to the pool."

Strangely, once they arrived at the pool, Jim did not get in himself. He sat on the side and watched as Spock did laps, alternating between strokes. Normally, Jim would be in the water with him. They had raced a few times, Spock's strength surprisingly evenly matched against Jim's skill and comfort in the water.

But this time Jim sat on the side, quiet, watching.

Spock remained in the pool long enough to know that he should not have any difficulty passing his swimming test. Jim looked up when he climbed out, bringing up a small, brief smile. Spock did not like that smile -- it didn't have Jim's eyes behind it. It took effort. It felt fake. "Done already?" Jim asked, standing up and stretching.

Spock nodded. "I am confident I will be able to pass my test. Thank you, Jim, for your tutelage."

Jim's smile turned more genuine. Spock was both fiercely glad, and surprised at the ferocity of his gladness.

"No problem," Jim said easily. "My pleasure. But don't forget, we've still got the ocean swimming to do later. I'm not leaving you alone until you can handle waves and avoiding riptides and everything else the ocean will be happy to throw at you."

Jim frequently spoke of the ocean as if it had consciousness, and Spock had long given up trying to correct him. He understood that Jim did not mean everything he said literally.

Spock showered and changed, then started outside with Jim, who seemed more cheerful now they had finished their business. They were crossing the grounds again when Spock saw Admiral Archer walking one of his dogs, coming towards them. Spock saluted as they drew close, and Archer nodded an acknowledgement to him, but when Archer's eyes moved to Jim, the admiral stopped short.

"My god," he said. "You're a Kirk, aren't you?"

Spock turned to see Jim crossing his arms again. "I'm Jim," he said, voice short.

Archer ignored the tone. "Jim," he repeated. "Would that be James Tiberius, son of George and Winona? You look so much like George at that age."

"Yeah, that's me," Jim said, and it only took Spock a few moments to make the connection. George Kirk of Starfleet, and the son born as George died with the Kelvin.

That was Jim?

Archer's attention returned to Spock. "Why don't you go on ahead, Cadet Spock," Archer said. "I'd like to talk to Jim here for a moment."

"That's not necessary," Jim said quickly, reaching out and grabbing Spock's sleeve. "We were just leaving."

"Cadet," Archer repeated, and Spock had no choice. The order may have been mildly stated, but it was still an order. He gently removed Jim's hand from his arm and stepped back. He could barely look at Jim as he walked away.

"Jim," Archer said, not even waiting for Spock to be out of earshot. "Winona is your mother, right?"

"Yeah," Jim replied, subdued. "You know about her, right? About us?"

"You do take after her, then? I knew your brother did, but I haven't seen you since you were a baby."

"Look, sir, it doesn't matter. It was a mistake for her to leave, and she knew it when Dad died. Whatever you want, you should give it up."

"Your parents -- _both_ of your parents -- were superlative officers, Jim. We need more like them."

"Is this a _recruitment speech_? Sir, all due respect, that's a bad idea."

"Is it the selkie thing? Jim, Starfleet accepts applicants of all races, and we try our best to accommodate all of them. Your mother loved it until your father's death."

"Sir--"

Spock finally walked out of earshot. He knew he should not have listened, but he could not bring himself to regret it. Whatever a _selkie_ was, Spock was sure it was a key piece to the mystery of Jim Kirk.


	3. Chapter 3

Jim had been a mysterious presence in Spock's life since they first met, Jim claiming a sealskin on a lonely beach in the middle of the night. He had refused to give his surname. His apartment seemed barely lived-in, for a human. His brother chided him about something Spock did not know, and Jim did not feel he needed to know.

Spock had kept these mysteries in the back of his mind, aware of them and attempting to solve them, but not at the expense of invading Jim's privacy. There were, after all, many things that Spock himself had not shared with Jim.

But he still had not been able to entirely suppress his curiosity, which had led to listening to Jim's conversation with Admiral Archer. Now he knew the word _selkie_ , and that it had some relation to Jim, and seemed to be another race. Spock did not profess to know all the species of the Federation, but he believed he knew all the humanoid, and he had never heard of selkies.

So Spock opened his computer and began searching.

He quickly ran into an obstacle, which was that all his results professed selkies to be entirely mythological creatures. Admiral Archer had spoken of them as if they were real, so there must be data missing somewhere. Spock clicked through result after result, but even the most professional sources proclaimed the selkie to be a creature of Terran myth.

Determined to reconcile the disparate data, Spock returned to the most reputable sources and began reading more in depth. Soon he had more questions than answers.

All the sources seemed to agree that a selkie was a being that could change between human shape and seal, usually by putting on or taking off a seal's skin. Some sources claimed that a human who took a selkie's sealskin bound the selkie to him for as long as he maintained possession of the skin, though Spock could not determine if the binding was some sort of magic or simply because the selkie could not turn back into a seal without the skin. Some sources claimed that selkies lived entirely in the sea, and would only take human shape to walk along the beach at night, for what purpose Spock could not determine. Some sources claimed that selkies who mated with humans bore human children, while others said that they bore selkies.

The data was contradictory, and pointed to only one true conclusion: if selkies truly existed, humans did not know enough about them to make definitive, trustworthy statements. Furthermore, humans were prone to making up wild stories about what they did not know.

But Spock was still aware that he had found only one source -- Admiral Archer -- that stated selkies to be real creatures, while every other source denied it. Perhaps there was a difference between what humans would reveal in person on this topic, and what they would speculate about in recorded stories? As long as Spock considered Admiral Archer to be an authoritative source, which he would until proven otherwise, there had to be some way to reconcile the discrepancy in the data.

There was another human he could ask, someone he could trust to tell him the truth.

His mother looked delighted when the call connected, her eyes sparkling and her smile wide. "Spock!" she exclaimed. "Oh, it's so good to see you. You don't call often enough."

His mother excelled at evoking guilt. He would have called more often, but he did not wish to incur even more of his father's disapproval.

"Oh, don't mind me," Amanda went on, sharp eyes catching his smallest expressions, as always. "A son can never really call his mother often enough, and I'm sure you're busy. Tell me about Earth, and Starfleet. Do you like it there?"

He spoke, and his mother listened eagerly. "I never liked the cold myself," she commented when he mentioned the change of seasons. "Toronto is further north, but San Francisco has those cold ocean breezes, so I can imagine how you feel. I was very glad to settle someplace warm."

And when he talked about his swimming lessons, she said, "I'm so glad you have a friend, Spock. Tell me more about this Jim."

"That is actually related to the reason for this communication, Mother," Spock replied slowly. "I have a question regarding Jim, and I thought your knowledge would be beneficial."

"Oh?" She rested crossed arms on the desk in front of her and leaned forward, smiling. "What can I help you with?"

Spock paused for a moment to consider his words, then asked, "To the best of your knowledge, are selkies mythological, or a real species?"

Amanda coughed slightly, then raised both eyebrows. "Spock, those are old stories. What do they have to do with your friend?"

Old stories. If even his mother was dismissive... "Admiral Archer...implied that Jim is a selkie. I would think him to be an authoritative source as to the existence of selkies, but all of my research indicates they do not exist," Spock explained.

Amanda's brows drew downward in worry. "Spock, you better tell me the whole story."

So Spock did, looking away slightly when he mentioned his eavesdropping. At the end of it, Amanda sat back in her seat, her lips pursed in thought. "Spock..." She sighed, then shook her head slightly with a smile. "You never could resist getting into things. This is classified, and I only know because your father is the Ambassador to Earth, which means he sometimes needs to deal with all Terran races, and not just humans."

Spock refused to exhibit eagerness by breaking posture and leaning forward in his seat. "Mother?"

She smiled again. "Yes, Spock. Selkies actually exist, and there's a good chance your friend is one. They don't want to be actively involved in the Federation as a species, and they prefer that people don't know about them, so only the higher levels of Starfleet officers and Federation officials do."

"Why do they not want others to know about them?"

"You'll have to ask your friend that," Amanda replied. "My guess is that they simply don't trust humans enough. You said you've been doing research, so I'm sure you came across stories about humans taking a selkie's skin and trapping them in human form, and that kind of thing. How many stories did you come across with good relations between the two races?"

"Very few," Spock answered. One story had claimed that selkies deliberately mated with humans every seven years to keep the human shape in their blood, and existed in partnership with their chosen mates. In most stories, however, encounters with humans seemed to lead to grief for the selkie.

A memory prodded Spock, of Jim explaining that his mother's heart had broken when his father died, and she had retired from Starfleet and returned home to San Francisco. To the Pacific Ocean.

"Spock," Amanda said, catching his attention again. "If your friend really is a selkie, be careful. I don't think they mean any harm, but we just don't know very much about them. I don't want you to get hurt."

"You said you do not believe them to intend harm," Spock pointed out.

Amanda's eyes were serious as they held his. "There is more than one kind of harm. Everything I've heard says that their deepest love is for the sea, and nothing can interfere with that."

"I do not understand the relevance. Where is the harm in that?" Spock replied, tilting his head.

Inexplicably, his mother smiled, but there was sadness in it. "You don't understand?" she repeated softly. "I think you will."

Spock ended the conversation soon after. As deeply as he cared for his mother, he found it hard to continue conversing with her when she grew cryptic.

\--

The swimming lessons were no longer necessary, but Spock and Jim still met socially. Spock, upon one walk earlier in the year through a local park, had seen chess sets set up on tables where it seemed anyone could come and play. Remembering that, and thinking it unlikely there would be many people there in the winter, Spock thought it a good opportunity to speak to Jim in relative privacy. Jim smirked when Spock mentioned chess, but he agreed.

Spock, bundled up in layers of gloves, sweater, coat, scarf, and hat, met Jim at the chess tables and noted with satisfaction that they were empty. He let Jim take white, and they started playing.

Spock spared only part of his attention for the game. The rest was on watching Jim's intent focus, and deciding how to introduce his question.

Finally, he decided to simply ask. "Jim," he said, and Jim looked up. "I have a question for you, but first I must apologize. I overheard some of your conversation with Admiral Archer last week."

Jim, his hand raised to move a knight, jerked, knocking the knight off the table. He bent over and picked it up, placing it carefully in the square he wanted, before looking at Spock again. "Which part of the conversation?" he asked, his voice strange, slightly too high.

"The part where he referenced _selkies_ ," Spock replied, and watched as Jim closed his eyes and crossed his arms against his chest before opening his eyes again and grinning. There was something off in his grin, like he was forcing it.

"Did you look them up?" Jim asked. "Humans invent some pretty interesting creatures, huh?"

"While that is true," Spock said slowly, catching and holding Jim's brilliant blue gaze, "the context of your conversation intrigued me. What I could find in Earth's archives corroborated the mythological aspect, but then I asked my mother, and she told me the truth."

"It's your move," Jim reminded him, looking down at the chessboard. He did not say anything else.

"My mother told me," Spock went on after moving a bishop, taking one of Jim's pawns, "that selkies are not mere mythological creatures, though few people know they actually exist."

Jim raised an eyebrow. "My mother stopped telling me fairy tales when I was about eight. I stopped believing in them even before then."

"If I believed my mother to be telling me a fictional story, certainly I would not take it for truth," Spock replied, watching as Jim now avoided his eyes. "However, my mother told me specifically that selkies were not a mere story."

Jim leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Spock. Selkies are a pretty interesting story and I get why you like them, but they're just a story." Even then, he still could not meet Spock's eyes.

Spock tilted his head, considering. He had not expected Jim to be so resistant to explaining. Perhaps if Spock offered of himself, Jim would be willing to reciprocate. "My mother is human," he said, and this time Jim blinked and met his eyes.

"Uh, okay," Jim said. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"All Vulcans consider my human blood a disadvantage," Spock said, almost forcing the words out. "They see my choice of Starfleet as confirmation that I am not a true Vulcan."

"Spock," Jim said, reaching out for him before pulling back. "You're not--"

But Spock shook his head, cutting off Jim's words. "I do not believe my mother is a disadvantage. She has never failed to express her love and support for me. And Jim, she has never lied to me. When she told me that selkies truly exist, I believed her."

"Why?" Jim asked, voice softer. "How can she know?"

"My father is Vulcan's Ambassador to Earth," Spock replied. "He knows, and therefore she does."

Jim closed his eyes, his head dropping until Spock could no longer see his face. Spock waited a moment, then said, gently, "Jim? Will you tell me?"

"It sounds like you already know," Jim replied, voice muffled slightly. But then he raised his head, and gave Spock a small but genuine smile. "What do you want to know?"

"Are you a selkie?" Spock asked outright.

"Yes," Jim answered in the same vein. "My father was human, but my mother is a selkie. So is my brother. I was pretty surprised to see him a few weeks ago, because he doesn't spend much time in human form." Jim finally moved a rook, and Spock returned part of his attention to the game.

"Is that common?"

Jim nodded. "We're pretty vulnerable, as humans -- if we lose our skins, we'll be stuck this way. I like walking around on land just fine, but I wouldn't want to be cut off from half of me."

Spock nodded thoughtfully. "Then why become human at all, if you are vulnerable?"

"Because it's part of who we are," Jim said softly. "Why did you come to Earth? You're certainly not always comfortable here, and I don't just mean physically." He nodded at Spock's many layers, protecting him from the day's cold. "You're not just Vulcan, you said. There's another part of your heritage. It's the same for us."

Spock looked at the board and made a move, not entirely comfortable with the comparison. "Will you tell me about your parents?" he asked. "You said your mother was also in Starfleet?"

"Yeah." Jim sighed. "She had some difficulty, being on a starship away from the sea, but she loved exploring and she loved my dad. Starships have pools, so she still got to swim, and her captain knew about her, so he made sure she had some time and privacy to swim in seal shape. She had a good life, she said. But then Dad died. The sea was the only comfort to her then, I think."

"Not you and your brother?"

Jim looked at him sharply, then turned away. "She loves us," he muttered. "It's just hard for her sometimes. We remind her a lot of him. Especially me, because I was born just before he died."

Spock wanted to reach out, wanted to touch Jim and lend him comfort -- and almost, almost stopped himself. But he did reach out, and he took Jim's hand, clasping it with his. Jim looked at their hands, and did not pull away.

They finished their game in silence, hands still clasped. There was much Spock still wished to know, but he did not want to press Jim if the telling would hurt him, as the story of his parents clearly had. Jim won the game, to Spock's surprise, but Jim could only bring up a bare smile when Spock tipped his king.

The world was quiet around them, the breeze soft enough to be almost soundless. Jim finally pulled his hand away to stand, and though Spock still wore gloves, he felt the loss of Jim's warm skin. Jim started packing away the chess pieces, and Spock helped, slowly, not wanting their afternoon together to end.

Jim looked up, licked his lips, opened his mouth as if to say something, but before he could, Spock said, almost blurted, "May I see you? In your...other shape?"

Jim's eyes widened, and he closed his mouth. Silence stood between them for a moment, but then Jim shrugged, and said, "Why not? You'll have to come with me to the apartment, though. That's where my family usually leaves our skins when we're not wearing them."

Ah. That was likely why the apartment had not seemed lived in. It would make sense if it were primarily used as a safe storage space. But, "When we first met," Spock asked, wondering, "you left your skin on a rock."

Jim grimaced, his cheeks flushing lightly. "Yeah, and I know better, too. We're not supposed to leave them lying around; it's too dangerous. Too many selkies have been caught that way -- not even found out, but someone took their skin and then they were trapped. I just figured it was midnight, the beach was deserted, going for a brief run wouldn't do any harm. It nearly gave me a heart attack to come back and find you bending over it."

Spock nodded, then offered, "I would not have taken it. I was simply curious about what it was."

Jim glanced at him, smiling. "Good to hear," he said. He glanced at him again, and then reached out and took Spock's hand. Spock shivered abruptly, but not with cold.

He looked down at their hands. He had been the first to reach out, and he had...liked it. He had wanted it. He wanted it still, he realized. Even with the intimacy much diminished due to the gloves, he enjoyed holding Jim's hand in his. So as they walked to Jim's car, he did not pull away.

They separated when they reached the car, and Spock kept his hands to himself as they drove to Jim's apartment, as Jim ran up and retrieved a bag, as Jim started them off somewhere else.

"Where are we going?" Spock asked.

"The beach," Jim replied, and of course. Spock understood how Jim would want to be at the beach for this. Seals were not well suited to crowded human cities.

Jim drove, and Spock looked at him. He could see the humanity, but could he see anything else? Jim was nothing like the other humans he knew, but he had always attributed that to being _Jim_. He had a strange, wild energy -- a magnetism. Spock had felt it the moment of their first meeting, and felt it still, after months of acquaintance.

But Spock looked at him, and did not think the essential _Jim_ came solely from being a selkie. Spock had met Jim's brother, even if only briefly, and had not felt the same energy, the same magnetism. In all of Spock's acquaintance, that belonged only to Jim.

They reached the beach, one Spock recognized with a spark around his heart as the one where they had first met. It was sparsely populated even now, cold saltwater breeze blowing across the ocean. Jim strode confidently across the sand, and Spock followed him almost as nimbly. When they reached the grouping of rocks Spock remembered from that night months ago, Jim ordered him to remain in place, then disappeared to the other side. While Spock would have been intrigued to see the transformation in action, he stayed where he was.

Two minutes later, a bark broke the rhythmic crashing of the waves. Spock took that to be a signal, and rounded the edge of the rocks to see the human Jim gone, and in his place, propped up on top of a smaller rock, was a large seal.

The seal was almost two meters long. He watched calmly out of large, dark eyes as Spock approached, stopping a mere foot away. His fur was light, almost as blond as Jim's hair on top, shading to gray along his sides and what Spock could see of his belly, spotted with patches of both darker and lighter fur. Spock reached out, wanting to feel, before he started to draw his hand back. But Jim raised his head, tilting it out as if in offering, and Spock let his hand come to rest on top of Jim's head.

It was warm, smooth -- but not enough. He tugged off his glove, ignoring the smack of cold air on his newly bared skin, and lowered his hand once more to Jim's head. He kept his telepathic receptors closed, not willing to reach out with that sense when Jim had not given him permission, but even without sensing Jim's thoughts and emotions, he could still feel a sense of _Jim_.

He removed his hand and replaced his glove, finding it more difficult than anticipated to reconcile Jim with the seal in front of him, even knowing the seal was truly Jim. He knew no other species that could change its shape like this. It was disconcerting, but also...extraordinary.

"Thank you," Spock said as Jim watched him, dark eyes almost understanding. "Will you change back now?"

Jim's seal shape was beautiful, but Spock suddenly yearned for the familiarity of Jim's human form.

Jim tilted his head, then gave a short bark and rolled off the rock. He waddled awkwardly around the other side, this form far less graceful on land. Spock turned his back so Jim would not have to go far, and another two minutes later, Jim's voice said, "It's all right, you can turn around now."

Spock turned around to see Jim, his face open, his posture watchful, waiting. His eyes were different, but still somehow the same, though instead of black, they were the color of the thin line Spock could see on the ocean horizon past Jim, the color where the sea met the sky and the two shades blended. His eyes still held an inexplicable understanding, though Spock did not know what he understood.

Then Jim moved until he stood in front of Spock, closer than he had ever stood before. Spock did not know what he was doing, but then Jim reached out and placed a hand on the back of Spock's neck, above the scarf, and pulled Spock's head down. Spock went, and Jim was tilting his face up, and then their lips met.

Oh. His lips tingled where they touched Jim's, where Jim's moved against his.

Oh.

Was this what Jim understood and Spock had not, not yet?

He thought he was beginning to understand now. He wanted to.

\--

Spock had known that humans expressed romantic and sexual affection by bringing their lips together. He had not understood why. It seemed like it would be...wet.

Now -- now Spock could confirm that it was wet, but he did not find it as off-putting in reality as in the abstract. Because it was Jim. Jim, pulling him close, wanting him there, wanting to share this with Spock. And Spock realized that he wanted to share this with Jim as well.

What he did not know was if he should. Becoming romantically involved with Jim was not logical. Spock could see no future for them, not as long as Jim continued to shy away from almost every mention of Starfleet. There was no purpose to a relationship that had no realistic possibility of becoming permanent.

But somehow, every time this occurred to him, Jim persuaded him otherwise without even realizing it. Jim beat him at chess by being unpredictable. Jim tugged him away from the Academy and showed him more of Earth. Jim kissed him until he could think of nothing but holding Jim close and more, more.

Perhaps the relationship was illogical. For the first time in his life, Spock did not even care. He was already a failure as a Vulcan. He could try the human way.

The Terran year turned, and Jim's eighteenth birthday approached. Spock knew that eighteen was a significant year for humans, though he did not know about selkies. He further knew that birthdays were significant dates. Spock wished to commemorate the occasion, but did not know how.

Then he found out that Jim had never been off Earth.

"I've barely been out of California," Jim told him. "I've been to Iowa a few times, to see my dad's parents and where he grew up and everything, but never managed to make it anywhere else." He shrugged.

"Would you be interested in leaving the planet?" Spock asked.

Jim eyed him sideways, then smiled. "Sure. As long as I don't have to move away. Why not?"

Spock had been a child the first time he had seen Earth from space. He had seen Vulcan from space on the same trip, but his first sight of Earth had made a greater impact. The planet filled with swirls of blue and white had been so _alien_. It had awoken in Spock a desire for more.

He had always known he wanted to be a scientist, but that first trip to Earth had made clear that he wanted to explore, to make new discoveries. He had tried the Vulcan Science Academy because it was traditional and his father wanted it and he had wanted to be accepted for his intelligence and his skills, if not for his genetic heritage, but he had wanted Starfleet more. He had been...relieved when the VSA had given him an excuse to turn them down and leave Vulcan for somewhere new.

Spock wished to share that experience with Jim. For all the months of their friendship, Jim had been the one giving his planet to Spock. Spock wanted to be able to give back.

"The _moon_?" Jim repeated, when Spock mentioned his idea. "You want to take me to the _moon_ for my birthday?"

Spock's brow furrowed slightly. "Would you not enjoy that? You said you would be interested in leaving the planet..."

Jim's birthday was not for another week. There was still time to make other plans if Jim did not like this one.

But Jim was laughing and shaking his head. "Best date ever," he assured Spock, and grinned. "Sure, let's go to the moon."

Earth's moon had long since been colonized, but it contained several viewing platforms and historical sites. As their shuttle headed for one of those historical sites, moving smoothly into the dark starry expanse of space, Jim's hand found Spock's and gripped it tightly. Earth was brightly illuminated in the window, a brilliant sphere of whirls of blue and white.

"Look at that," Jim breathed. "I can see the whole Pacific!" He turned to look at Spock, who could see the awe in Jim's eyes. Soon, however, Jim's gaze was once again drawn away to watch his planet. He seemed to have no more words. 

He soon regained his voice, however. For the rest of the shuttle ride up, Jim chattered unceasingly about the time humans had first reached the moon, the space race between the old nations of the United States and the Soviet Union, and how humans had nearly abandoned space for almost a century after that, caught up in war after war. Only after First Contact with Vulcan had humans as a species reclaimed their fervor to see the stars first hand.

Jim's face had been practically nestled against the window for the entire trip, and Spock was only able to hear his monologue due to his more advanced hearing.

The first thing Jim wanted to do when they arrived was visit the Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin Historical Preservation Site, where the American astronauts had first planted their flag. Much of the rest of the moon had been landscaped and made livable, the gravity adjusted to suit Earth-normal, green parks shepherded into growing to suit the human need for color. The historical site, however, remained as it had been two hundred and eighty-two years ago, even to the point of requiring specialized suits to survive the lack of atmosphere.

The gravity was as it had been so long ago, this part of the moon outside the dome the rest existed under. Jim pulled on his suit with enthusiasm, bouncing on his heels as he waited for Spock to don his, and once outside, Jim bounded off, laughing across their communications link.

"Best date ever!" Jim yelled, only coming to a stop when he reached the cordoned-off American flag. He looked at it for a moment, then tilted his helmet up towards the rising Earth, glowing blue against a backdrop of stars.

They ended their day having dinner on one of the observation decks. Jim continually attempted to engage in conversation with Spock, but the hanging Earth kept drawing away his attention. Finally, with a little smile, he gave up and just looked out the transparent wall. He watched the Earth, and Spock watched him, and Spock's heart thrummed in his side as he observed the peace on Jim's face.

"Thank you, Spock," Jim murmured, finally returning his attention to Spock. "I never thought I would enjoy this so much."

"I am gratified you did," Spock replied, almost automatically, because an idea had caught him.

He had not let himself truly contemplate the possibility before, having seen how vehement Jim was about avoiding Starfleet. But Spock had never seen him as comfortable on land as he was sitting here now, surrounded by stars, looking out at his planet. Spock had only seen him this comfortable, this peaceful, in the water.

Jim's mother had enjoyed Starfleet, had enjoyed exploring the stars. She had only returned home when Jim's father had died.

Dare Spock hope that Jim would even consider following in his mother's footsteps?


	4. Chapter 4

Spock did not ask Jim immediately to enter Starfleet Academy. He was beginning to realize how much he wanted it, for Jim to remain with him, for Spock not to leave him behind when he graduated and went into service. But he knew that Jim was averse to the idea, and Spock could not ask until he determined that Jim wished to stay with Spock as much as Spock wanted him.

Spock had never known emotions like this before. He had never known that emotions _could_ be like this. Previously, his strongest emotions had been his love for his mother, and even his father, and his anger at the classmates who taunted him and society that denigrated him. In many ways, they were the same emotion -- his love for his mother led to his anger at the casual way Vulcan dismissed her. Without the love, there would have been no anger.

Spock's feelings for Jim were also strong, and seemed to be getting stronger with every passing day. When Jim smiled, when Jim laughed, when Jim grew smug with victory as he defeated Spock at chess or pouted as he was defeated, when he made sincere efforts to find activities that Spock would enjoy -- all of those things and more made Spock's heart feel like it increased, like soon his body would be incapable of containing it. When he touched Spock, skin to skin, Spock felt Jim's own joy, and his entire body tingled in reaction. Nothing Spock had yet encountered could quiet his mind like one of Jim's kisses.

The emotions were buoying, in a way Spock had never before felt emotions to be. Behind the exultation of being with Jim, however, was fear. Fear that, in the future, he would be without Jim if Spock failed to convince him to join Starfleet. Jim was -- extraordinary. Spock had never met anyone like him. Now that he had felt it, he did not want to be without Jim's vibrant warmth.

Weeks passed, and Spock's resolve firmed. He would ask Jim. He was prepared for resistance, but if Jim felt for Spock anything like what Spock felt for Jim...Spock knew he would prevail.

He brought it up on another trip to the beach. Jim lay in human form in the sand, his jacket forming a pillow; he showed no signs of being cold. Spock, dressed once again in sweater, coat, scarf, hat, and gloves, sat cross-legged beside him, looking out at the ocean, listening to the crash of the waves and the cries of the gulls.

"Jim," Spock said, and Jim made an inquiring noise. "Jim, I--" He stopped. How should he word this important question?

Beside him, Jim shifted. Spock looked at him to see him propping himself up on one elbow. "Spock?" he asked.

Spock closed his eyes, then opened them again. He needed to see Jim for this. Maybe then the words would come.

"Jim," Spock said again, deciding to simply make his request outright. "I wish for you to join Starfleet with me."

Jim blinked, and his mouth dropped open slightly. He pushed himself up until he was sitting, facing Spock. Sand sprinkled off his shirt and bare arms.

"Spock," he replied, looking regretful. "You know I don't like Starfleet."

Spock nodded. "I am aware," he said. "But I believe that if you gave it a chance--"

Jim shook his head, interrupting. "No. I don't need to give it a chance. It's not a good idea."

"It can be," Spock protested. His hand twitched, wanting to reach out, but Spock did not think that would yet be productive. "When we traveled to the moon, you enjoyed space."

Jim stared at him, then barked out a laugh. "Spock, that was a _vacation_. Who doesn't like going on vacation to new places? That doesn't mean I want to go _live_ out in space! Besides, if you've forgotten, I'm a selkie. It's just not a good idea for me to leave the sea."

"It can be," Spock repeated. "You said that your mother enjoyed her time in Starfleet, and only circumstances--"

"Oh no you don't," Jim said furiously, rolling away from Spock and springing to his feet. "You don't get to bring my mother into this conversation, not on your side. You've never even met her."

"I do not think that relevant," Spock replied, remaining where he was, unthreatening. "Jim, you said that your mother did well away from the sea, until your father's death. You could as well."

Jim crossed his arms over his chest, scowling. "Why are you asking me for this?" he demanded. "You _know_ how I feel about it."

Spock looked down, to his hands in his lap and the sand beneath them. He swallowed, then replied, "Because I am in Starfleet, and I will not always be on Earth." He paused for a moment, then forced himself to continue, "And I do not wish to be without you."

Jim blinked at him, then shook his head, slowly. "Are you serious?" he asked, his hands dropping to his side. "No, of course you are. Spock, don't you think you're moving kind of fast?"

Spock almost frowned. "How so?"

Jim snorted. "We've only known each other for about six months, and have only been dating for three of those. You're talking like you want to spend your life with me."

"I would," Spock replied, knowing it for truth. Now he stood, but he did not take a step forward. "I have never felt this way for anyone. I do not need to know you longer to know I wish to stay with you, to have you with me always."

Jim's arms hung loose at his side, like he didn't know what to do with them. He had a strange look on his face, his eyes dark and wild, his mouth pulled back, slightly twisted. "Spock," he said. "You don't know what you're feeling. We're both young, and you're a Vulcan. This, this is infatuation or something, and, and it'll end, and it'll have been nice, but it's your first romantic relationship and it'll _end_."

"It does not have to," Spock replied, though anxiety roiled in his stomach. "Unless you wish it?" he added. Asked.

"No," Jim replied quickly. "I don't want it to end, but Spock, we're _young_. The odds just aren't good that a long-term relationship will work out."

Spock tilted his head. "What odds?" he asked. "Vulcans are routinely betrothed in childhood, as I would have been had my intended not refused to bond with a half-breed. I do not see what relevance our youth has in determining the success of a long-term relationship."

"You can't know if what you feel now will last," Jim told him tiredly. "This is your first experience with that kind of feeling. You can't know that it will last."

"You judge on a human standard," Spock informed him. "Vulcan emotions work differently." Spock could know his feelings would last the test of time. He did know. He felt the resonance of them, and knew that if he let himself embrace them fully, they would become a part of him, never to be severed.

Then he froze. "Unless -- you do not think your feelings for me will last?" he asked, voice monotone with control.

Jim's eyes were sad, and he turned away to face the sea. "Everything ends, Spock," he said quietly. "Whether you want it to or not. The only thing that matters is _how_ it ends. We live in two different worlds, Spock. They touch, they overlap a bit, but I can't live in yours any more than you can live in mine."

"I have more than one world," Spock said, for the first time in his life grateful for that fact. "I have had difficulty living in both of them, but they are mine. You have more than one world as well, Jim, or why do you spend so much time on land?"

Jim was shaking his head. "Don't, Spock," he said. "Don't. I can't."

"Jim--"

But Jim turned away, as if he did not hear Spock. He started walking, and Spock let him go.

\--

Spock called his mother.

"Spock, honey, what's wrong?" she asked immediately upon seeing him, and as always, Spock felt a disconcerting mix of disturbed and relieved at her ability to so easily discern his emotions. At the moment, however, the balance was weighted greater in favor of relief at her insight.

"I do not know what to do," he confessed, and then it seemed as if the words spilled from him. He told Amanda the entire story, from confronting Jim about being a selkie to becoming involved in a romantic relationship with Jim to recognizing his desire for that relationship to last beyond his tenure at Starfleet Academy. Then he told her about asking Jim to join Starfleet.

"Oh, honey," Amanda sighed when he had finished. "Well, that's a pretty problem, isn't it?"

Spock, used to his mother's tendency to ask hypothetical questions and apply strange adjectives to unrelated nouns even if he did not understand it, did not comment on her statement. Instead, he repeated, "I do not know what to do."

"There might not be anything you can do," she told him with audible reluctance. "You know why he feels the way he does."

Since meeting Jim, Spock's heart seemed to have learned many varieties of wild acrobatics. Now it discovered a new one, and twisted on itself until he felt as if it grasped his insides and strangled them. "So you believe I should accept his decision?"

He should never have gotten involved with Jim. If he had left his acquaintance with Jim at their strange first encounter, then he would never have known such a wild flurry of emotions. He would never have known the highs of sincere happiness, but he would also never have known the deep lows of that happiness taken away.

He should never have tried to explore his human side. His father had been correct. Vulcan emotions were too strong to experiment with. It was far better not to feel them.

" _Spock_ ," his mother said firmly. "I know that face. Don't tell me you're regretting your relationship."

"Regret is an emotion," Spock said automatically.

"Yes, it is, and you are fully capable of feeling it. Don't forget, Spock, I saw all those times you tried making friends and were rebuffed. I saw your hurt. I was so happy that _you_ seemed happy on Earth, that you finally found a friend. That you finally found someone to show you that emotion doesn't have to be the bane of your existence."

"But it still hurts," Spock replied quietly. While Amanda was sometimes willing to let him have his facade of emotionlessness in the face of pain, he knew that she saw through it every time. He did not feel the pretense worth the effort at the moment.

"Oh, honey, I know it does," she said, lifting her hand slightly in what might be an aborted gesture to reach for him. "But as much as it hurts, pain is part of what makes life worth living. The bitter is what makes us appreciate the sweet."

Spock actually had a greater preference for bitter over sweet, but he thought he understood Amanda's point. He just did not know if he agreed. "What if there is no sweet?" he asked, continuing her metaphor. "What if there is only the bitter?"

"You can never know for sure there won't be any sweet, Spock. That's why you take risks. They might turn out badly, but they might turn out well instead. You can't go through life avoiding the sweet because you're afraid of the bitter."

His mother had tried to explain the benefits of emotion to him before, but now it seemed to strike a deeper chord. One of Surak's first principles was that one should cast out fear. One could never act in full logic when influenced by fear.

But how should Spock respond? The Vulcan creed dictated that he should act out of logic only, unmotivated either by fear or by desire. Only through logic could one find peace and fulfillment.

Yet Spock had felt both with Jim. He had not needed to suppress his emotions to find satisfaction with his life. Logic was merely a means to an end, and not an end it itself. If he could find a satisfactory path through emotion, and yet remain in control of himself...was there any harm to such a life?

Perhaps not, if he could find such a path. However, that would require Jim. Spock briefly considered staying on Earth, should Jim continue to refuse Starfleet. There were scientific opportunities in San Francisco he could pursue.

But it would be like Vulcan again, which had scientific opportunities of its own. He had initially chosen Starfleet because he wished to explore the galaxy and understand the unknown. He still wished that. It was selfish, perhaps, but he did not wish to choose between his most promising career path and Jim.

"Tell me what you're thinking, Spock," Amanda said, her tone a coax rather than a demand.

"I do not wish to be afraid," Spock replied, after a moment's consideration. "But what should I say to Jim? I do not wish to be without him, but you said I must accept his decision."

"Whatever he ends up deciding, of course you must accept," Amanda agreed. "But that doesn't mean you can't still talk to him. I think he's afraid too, Spock. If you want him to join Starfleet and stay with you, you're going to have to get him to give up that fear."

Yes. Jim being afraid fit the available facts. Jim seemed so brave to Spock, throwing himself out into a world where he was not entirely comfortable and making a place for himself. That did not mean he could not still fear removing himself further from his comfort zone.

Spock, however, was experienced in going beyond comfort. He would speak to Jim again, and hopefully, Jim would be willing to listen.

\--

Spock did not know the Terran protocol for attempting reconciliation after an argument, but eventually decided to call Jim and ask to meet and discuss things in person.

"Spock?" Jim looked startled when the call connected. Startled, but not angry or reluctant.

"Good morning, Jim," Spock replied. "I wished to determine if you would be willing to...go out."

As always, in a promising sign, Spock's attempted use of colloquialism made Jim's lips quirk in a slight smile. "Sure," he said, then paused. "You're not angry?"

Spock tilted his head. "I am not," he confirmed. Then, with a trace of humor he knew Jim would see, he added, "Considering it was my request, it would be illogical to be angry at your acceptance."

Jim snorted, then shook his head, the smile slightly wider. "You know what I meant," he said. "But I guess it would be illogical to be angry anyway, wouldn't it?"

"Indeed," Spock agreed. "I thought we might...have a picnic." Spock was not particularly fond of eating meals out of doors and on uneven surfaces such as rocks and ground, but Jim enjoyed them, and Spock wished to put Jim at ease.

Jim blinked at him, and his face softened minutely. "At the beach?" he asked.

The beach would be cold and windy, and sand was an even more unpleasant surface on which to set out a meal than grass...but Jim was comfortable there. "At the beach," Spock replied, nodding. "I will prepare our meal and meet you there at noon, if that is acceptable."

"Sounds great," Jim said, smiling at him. It was a soft smile, hesitant but genuine, and Spock's heart filled to see it directed at him.

He would persuade Jim. He must.

But he did not introduce the subject immediately upon his reunion with Jim. He set out the meal, shifting the sand beneath the cloth to balance the food and drink. Their conversation began awkwardly, as if Jim did not know what to say to him, but when Spock still did not bring up their argument, instead discussing a recent article he read in the Intergalactic Journal of Astrophysics, Jim started to relax. He relaxed enough to argue with Spock good-naturedly about the potential impacts of a newly-discovered pulsar on the asteroid belt near it, until finally he lay in the sand, just as he had before Spock had made his request.

Looking at him then, Spock almost let the subject go. He did not wish to disturb his friend, did not wish to break apart the comfortable aura that currently surrounded them. Jim so rarely seemed as comfortable as he was on the beach, in the intertidal zone -- land that was regularly covered by water. There were so few places on this planet that Jim seemed fully relaxed and content, and Spock was reluctant to disturb that once again.

But Jim had been comfortable in space. Spock had seen it, even if Jim dismissed it.

And Spock knew his mother had been right -- Jim was afraid. He feared leaving one of the few comfortable places he had.

Spock could understand that, could empathize with it. He himself had no comfortable places, only comfortable people -- his mother, and Jim. He too was afraid of leaving them behind. But he had only found Jim after leaving his mother, and there was no telling where he might find himself content in the future. He simply knew that he could not be afraid to find out.

So he murmured, "Jim?" and when Jim made a noise and turned in his direction, continued, "I do not wish to make you angry again."

Frowning, Jim propped himself up on one elbow. "Why would you...oh, come on." He thrust himself up until he sat cross-legged in the sand. "You're not going to bring up Starfleet again, are you?"

"I think you could be happy there, if you would give it a chance," Spock said. The words were quiet against the sound of the waves, but he knew Jim could hear him. "You do not seem happy here."

For all Jim's energy and enthusiasm, Spock did not feel he was happy.

Jim shook his head. "Spock--"

Spock did not customarily interrupt others, but he wanted to be sure Jim listened to him. "You were meant for more than drifting, Jim. Starfleet has as much to offer you as you have to offer it."

"Hey, I'm not _drifting_ , I got to school--"

Spock shook his head. "But for what purpose?" he asked pointedly, and Jim closed his mouth. "Do you know what you want, Jim?"

Jim did not answer. Spock was not surprised.

Spock watched his friend, but Jim kept his face blank, his eyes veiled and dark. He had words he thought might be efficacious, but debated speaking them. Even now, he found it difficult to expose himself.

Finally, he said, "I was afraid, when I left Vulcan." Jim's eyes widened at the admission, and Spock was gratified to feel him listening. "Vulcan was my home, and despite the difficulties I had there, I...loved it. However, I knew it could not offer me what I needed."

For a long moment, Jim did not reply. He looked down at the sand, tracing whorls and other strange patterns in the sand with one finger. Spock waited patiently. Every moment that Jim did not stand up and walk away was a reason for hope.

Then he muttered, his voice low enough that even Spock had to strain to hear him, "I'll think about it."

Spock moved closer, and Jim looked up at him. His face was no longer blank: his mouth was slightly tight, his forehead furrowed. His eyes widened as Spock moved in, picking up one hand and holding it loosely.

Slowly, carefully, giving Jim time to move away if he wished, Spock leaned in to press his mouth against Jim's. Jim's lips were chapped but wet, as if he had been licking at them, and they were warm. Spock closed his eyes and lingered there, giving only gentle pressure. Jim pressed back, just as gently, and Spock took in a deep breath and moved away.

"Thank you," he said, then drew back further and began to pack away the picnic materials.

\--

Spock did not contact Jim after their picnic, deciding to let Jim contact him when he was ready to see Spock again. A call came a week after their last meeting, but Jim only asked Spock to come to the beach, and ended the conversation soon after the request.

However, when he arrived at the beach, it was not Jim who leaned against the rock, waiting for him. A woman leaned one shoulder against the rock, her arms crossed. She wore a beige skirt that was wet around the hems, a white blouse, and no shoes. Wavy blonde hair whipped around her face with the breeze, but she ignored it.

Spock had only seen her picture once, but he thought he would have recognized her anyway. "Mrs. Kirk," he greeted, coming to a stop a meter away.

"Spock," she returned, and smiled at him. Jim's smile. "Call me Winona. I've been looking forward to meeting you."

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance as well," Spock replied, and held out his hand in the ta'al. She returned the gesture.

"I've been worried about my Jim," she said, as Spock shifted to distribute his weight more evenly and tucked his hands behind his back. "I always knew that he was meant for more than this, but he always refused to listen to me. Maybe I didn't set the best example."

Spock did not know how to reply to that. "From what I have read, it was not only your example that influenced him," he tried, carefully.

She nodded in acknowledgment. "Our people do keep a lot of stories, even though it's been centuries since the last time a human kept a selkie against her will. We just never could break the habit of hiding, I suppose. We're more integrated now with the humans than we ever have been, and some among us still argue that it's too much."

"There are always voices urging caution," Spock agreed. A large percentage of Vulcan still remained dubious about membership in the Federation.

Winona sat down in the sand, her back pressed against the rocks, and stared at Spock until he likewise moved to be seated. His life had involved a lot more sitting on the ground since meeting Jim.

"When Jim was just a boy, he was always getting into everything," Winona continued once Spock had settled. "I can't count the number of times he's disappeared on me and I found him gone 'exploring.' Land or sea, it didn't matter. I could never hold him back. Only he could do that."

Spock tilted his head, about to speak, but Winona shook her head. "I wanted to meet you," she said, "to thank you. I think he finally is willing to make a choice about his life. You showed him that he could."

"Will he choose Starfleet?" Spock dared to ask.

"That's for him to say," she said, but she smiled. "Most of us are born on the shore, but Jim was born in space. He has a greater connection to it."

"A connection?"

"It's not unknown," Winona replied. "Salmon always go back to their own birthplace to spawn. Part of the selkie connection to the sea and to the land starts from our birth on the shore. I always suspected Jim might have a different anchor."

The 'connection' sounded nebulous and unscientific to Spock, but he did not dismiss it. His own people had something similar -- drawn to return to the sands of their home every seven years. Vulcans, too, did not well understand it, even after millennia.

"The question," Winona went on, "was always if he would let himself feel it. I think you made the difference." Her smile turned sad, her gaze drawing inward. "Be careful with him, please, Spock. He's so young, and I never dreamed he'd find love this soon. A selkie's heart is steadfast when given away, but he's going to be dealing with so many changes."

"I will help him," Spock pledged. "Vulcans are no more fickle than your people. If Jim should choose to come with me, I will stand beside him."

"Thank you," Winona said. She stood smoothly, sand clinging to her wet skirt. As Spock stood as well, with marginal less grace, Winona moved forward until she stopped just in front of him. She stood on her toes, leaning in to kiss him on the forehead. He closed his eyes and allowed it, and felt her gratitude, and her hope for Jim's future.

Then she pulled away, and he opened his eyes to watch her step back. "Stick around," she told him. "I'll send Jim along." Then she pulled something out from a crevice in the rocks -- her sealskin, light-colored like Jim's and patterned with dark spots. Spock politely turned away, and a few minutes later heard a splash, like someone diving into the ocean.

Spock waited, and felt the breeze move across his uncovered face, and listened to the crash of the waves.

Eleven minutes later, he heard a sharp bark, and turned to see Jim in seal form waddling up the beach towards him. Spock walked forward to meet him, kneeling in the sand when Jim butted his head gently against Spock's knee. Then Jim laid his head on Spock's thigh, looking up at him through big, dark eyes. Hesitantly, Spock put his bare hand on Jim's head, and when Jim just shifted closer to Spock's body, Spock started stroking the short fur.

Jim was warm, though heavy, and Spock found the rhythmic petting soothing, perhaps even enough to facilitate a light meditative trance. However, eventually he said, "I can speak to you like this, Jim, but you cannot respond."

Jim's eyes rolled up to meet Spock's, somehow managing to convey being deeply unimpressed. He yawned, perhaps to emphasize the point, but he rolled off Spock's legs and started waddling around the rocks. Spock stood and moved around to the other side himself, then waited until he could hear footsteps on the sand.

"It was easier to think," Jim said softly, words carried on the wind. Spock turned around to see that Jim's face was calm, his body held loosely. "Easier to focus."

"Have you come to a decision?" Spock asked, his tone just as soft.

Jim sighed, then his mouth quirked up in a shadow of a smirk. "I know what my mom has decided. Even Sam thinks it's a good idea, and Sam barely thinks coming up on _land_ is a good idea."

Spock shook his head. "I am gratified your mother and brother support you, but it can only be your decision, Jim."

"And if I decide against Starfleet?" Jim asked, tilting his head. "Because wanting to explore the galaxy is all well and good, but there's a lot more to Starfleet than that."

"I am aware," Spock replied. He himself had struggled with Starfleet's military aspects, but it would be illogical to deny that force was sometimes necessary -- Vulcans would never have developed the art of tal-shaya otherwise -- and he had come to terms with what would be required of him as a Starfleet officer.

Jim nodded, slowly. He stepped forward, walking past Spock until his feet sank into the damp sand, gentle waves washing around his bare ankles and feet. He stood there, watching the ocean for a long, silent moment, and Spock let him be.

Finally he turned and smiled at Spock. It was a small smile, but still genuine. He reached out a hand, tangling his fingers with Spock's when Spock met him halfway. "My credits at Stanford will transfer pretty easily," he said. "You'll probably still be done before I will, but I can definitely do it faster than the full four year program.

Spock closed his eyes, his fingers tightening on Jim's. For the first time, he loosened his telepathic controls and felt Jim's tremulous excitement, drowning out fear.

He kept their fingers tangled even as he pulled Jim forward for a kiss.


End file.
